Cooper's Hawk it is

This just in: It looks like we may have a positive identification on the hawk that’s hanging around our yard. Wildlife expert Patty Leslie contacted bird experts Tom and Patsy Inglet, who sent a photo almost identical to one my mistress took. It’s of a Cooper’s Hawk.

Mary researched Cooper’s Hawks on the internet and found that their diet consists of small birds and mammals. But how small? Generally, it said, they will eat squirrels and mice. But, it noted ominously, “mammalian prey can be as small as mice and as large as hares.” And, they are “deadly accurate in backyards.” Eeek!!

Dressing fit not to be Killed

My mistress always said she would never be one of “those” folks. By that she meant those icky people who dress up their dogs. But then came the hawk. In the last week, she and my master have seen a brown, striped-tailed raptor three times, hanging around the birdbaths in the front and back yards. My guess is it was waiting for an easy meal coming for a drink.

Birder friends have suggested it could be a Cooper’s or sharp-shinned hawk. More likely though, it’s a red-shouldered hawk, which are known to nest in the large estate behind our house. Whatever is is, it has a fierce visage and scary looking talons.

So the next thing you knew Mary went on the internet to see how Chica and I can safely go outdoors. She found someone who said clothing will fool hawks into not recognizing a tasty Chihuahua tidbit. (Sadly the person forgot one day to dress her dog and the hawk took it.) So now, in the three-digit degree heat, Chica and I are sporting sundresses.

It’s kind of embarrassing, I admit. But on the off chance that the hawk has a hankering for Mexican food I’m glad we are dressed fit not to be killed.

Mo's no mo

Well it had to happen. But as inevitable as the demise of the big fish was, the end still came as a shock. Mary’s younger son, Maverick, first discovered the foot-and-a-half long creature in Williams Creek about a year ago, and we checked on it regularly. The fish hung out under the water plants in a three-foot-wide, two-foot-deep trench that ran no longer than six feet. Every other fish in the creek was the size of a minnow, so he made quite an impression.

We figured the big one must have been washed down from a dammed-up lake upstream. My owners were careful whom they showed it to. I never mentioned it in this blog for fear of revealing its location. But, given its cramped habitat, we knew it was just a matter of time.

An out-of-town cousin whom we showed it to named it “Mo.” Lately, the same cousin was in town and asked after Mo. My mistress said we hadn’t seen him or her lately and that we were concerned because the drought had dried up the creek. The trenches still had water, but it was stagnant and warm. Nonetheless, we weren’t terribly worried since Mo had survived so long in less-than-optimal conditions.

On Sunday we drove up to the country on yet another triple-digit day. As we crossed the creek bed on our way out, my master and mistress and Chica and I got out of the car to check on Mo. Not ten steps out of the car, we encountered its skeleton on the dry creek bed, picked clean. Further up, we noticed two large great blue heron-size footprints next to the trench.

Mary was pretty sad but when she told her older son, William, he replied, “circle of life.” Another friend noted, “at least someone got a good meal out of it.” Both true, but to us Mo was more than just a fish. He was an example of survival against all odds. And his skeleton will be on display at the house as a memento mori.